


When The Call Came In

by TheSmellOfDustAfterRain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Indentity Fraud, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Puns, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I haven't decided, I'm Not Sure How Old They Are, Idiots in Love, James Bond Ish, John Watson being John Watson, Kidnapping, Like This Could Be Pre-S1, M/M, Miscommunication, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Spy Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain/pseuds/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain
Summary: Sherlock is trying to carry out his instruction.John is trying to get the café clerks number.





	1. Unknown Number From Mallow, Ireland

Sherlock had just handed a costumer their change when the phone rang. Not the phone that he answered with a fake smile and a “Thank you for calling Speedy’s café. How can I assist you?” Not that phone. The ringing phone was the one he was to answer by the third ring under threat of ‘extreme discipline’. The phone that had only rang twice before.

He answered. The voice on the end of the line said one word, ‘Active’, then disconnected. The number, 022 1217 1895, glowed in the display for few seconds then disappeared.

Sherlock immediately began preparing, breaking down the number as he went. Division 221. Cluster 2, consisting of Agents: A, Martha Hudson (Handler); B, himself (Information); and C, nameless (Conduct). Next, 17 how to identify Agent C. Finally, 18 a pass, 9 of phone numbers, 5 detailing a meet location.

Once everything was in place he began his, internally anxious, wait for the Agent which could take anywhere between a few hours and a few days. Costumers came and went but none executed procedure 17, that was until the lunch rush.

Sherlock had been mindlessly deducing the café patrons when the Agent entered. Sherlock recognized him easily by the quick influx of information (ex-military, Queen and County, above average intelligence, inconspicuous) he allowed himself. Or, more precisely, he was allowed. The Agent observed the display cases and then approached the counter.

“What can I getcha,” Sherlock asked, in his flirty voice.

“Yeah, uh, tea black two sugars, the grilled kimcheese sandwich, and a Bran-figgin’-tastic muffin,” said the Agent,. He run his hand through his slightly longer than military regulated blond hair, smiled, and made soft eyes at Sherlock.

Sherlock finished getting together the order, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the kimchi. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope, that’ll be it.”

“Okay, the total is gonna be £11.61.”

“Thanks. Hey, you ever get any free time?” the Agent asked.

Sherlock’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. He went off script, Sherlock thought, must be his first out. “Here, why don’t we exchange numbers and I’ll call you when I’m free to meet up.”

“Perfect,” said the Agent and scrawled his number on a napkin while Sherlock wrote his on the Agents receipt. “Look forward to hearing from you,” the Agent said and then left the café, a smile on his face.

Definitely his first out, Sherlock thought.

When Sherlock closed up Speedy's early, as he was to do after the Cluster was activated, he thought everything was fine. Several hours later though, a dark haired man, built like a tank, stood across the street staring at the closed café. He had arrived after closing hours, so thought nothing was out of the ordinary. He'd just come back tomorrow, he thought. 


	2. Phone Number of Attractive Cafe Clerk

John thought today was turning out to be a good day, aside from the fact that Mary, his girlfriend, was probably, certainly, most definitely going to break up with him. He’d just returned from Iraq and was set to be deployed to Afghanistan in three months. Apparently three months together after nine months apart wasn’t acceptable. He wasn’t to broke up about it, though.

But, other than his imminent break-up, the day had been going nice. He’d met up with some buddies who were also on R&R time, it was a nice sunny day, and most importantly he wasn’t being shot at.

On his way back to his girlfriend’s flat, he decided to stop at the little café he always passes but never enters. He was just going to get a cup of tea, but decided to by a grilled kimchi and cheese sandwich, to try one final time at a reconciliation with Mary, and a bran and fig muffin for himself.

The café clerk started flirting at him, and he couldn’t help but smile. It’d been such a long time that someone that attractive tried to hit on him. “You ever get any free time?” he asked after his order was rung up.

“Why don’t we exchange numbers and I’ll call you when I’m free,” said the clerk, William going by his name tag. John wrote his number down, while the other man did the same. “Look forward to hearing from you,” John said with a smile.

Yep, today was definitely a good day.

As predicted Mary broke up with him that afternoon, the kimchi sandwich apparently not a good enough token of peace. Oh well, John thought.

Just as it was getting dark, and John was trying to find a place to stay, he got a phone call. It was from an unknown number that matched the one written in the spidery handwriting on the back of his café receipt.

“Hello,” John said.

“Meet me at the Harp in forty-five minutes,” the voice on the other end of the line said, hastily and then hung up.

“Uh, well okay then,” John said. That was a bit rude, John thought, and contemplated not showing up. But, damn was he attractive. “What the hell.”

One Google Maps search and a short walk had John arriving at the Harp with fifteen minutes to spare. He took a seat in one of the only open tables in the back and asked the waitress to bring him a glass of water. John sat there for a few minutes sipping at his water and folding and unfolding the receipt when some guy, pissed off his ass, stumbled into him and spilled his beer all over John’s good date shirt.

Drunk guy’s buddy rushed over to John, spouting apologies. Then John felt a needle pierce his neck. “Oh, shit,” was a he managed to say before everything went dark.

Ten minutes later, William got to the pub and saw no sign of John, only a half drunk glass of water and a folded receipt with his handwriting on the back.


End file.
